Once again, from the beginning
by stay.deter.mined
Summary: Frisk loses her determination, and resets to a world before she fell into the underground in the first place. With fuzzy memories, she recalls certain things only from her dreams. Sans remembers everything. Rating will go up. 3
1. Quiet life

"Frisk," his word, soft, beckoned your eyes toward an outstretched hand. Your vision fuzzily wavered. A cyan-colored jacket stood out in the outstanding darkness, along with a small, blue flame next to his faded grin. Your arms were heavy; in your head, all you could do is think how badly you wanted that hand to carry your heavy one. Your legs began to move quietly beneath you, and you looked at them as if they moved without your permission. Something glimmered off the soft blue light that the other was giving.

A knife, suddenly given weight by your subconscious. It made no sense. The knife was so heavy that you thought it might fall out of your small hands. Regardless, your fingertips blazed a white color, as if they were gripping the knife tightly. You couldn't feel it…you couldn't feel anything. It was so dark, and sleep suddenly sounded so sweet, and comfortable. You blinked blearily.

"Frisk."

Your eyes open slightly. His voice, deep, is laced with pain and disdain. The room that the two of you are standing in starts to brighten and you look up, uncomfortable with the new light that introduced itself into your tired eyes. A dragon's head was staring at you with his fearsome jawline exposing a large orb of white light. The cyan jacketed figure has a red scarf, billowing without a sound. He repeated himself over and over until hearing the word "Frisk" caused you emotional grief. The lack of feeling that you had before was replaced too easily with hurt, and fear. You wished for release from this nightmare. You tried to speak to him. 'Just do it.' 'Release me.' 'Get it over with.'

No words exit your closed mouth. It may as well have been for decoration. Another dragon's head appeared with an opened mouth, similar to the other one. His grin was dark, and mostly hidden behind the red scarf that he had recently acquired. His words penetrated your mind and any line of thought you may have had was completely and savagely torn asunder.

"Dirty. Brother. Killer."

You looked down; sensing your knees bend beneath you caused you to gaze upon them in wonder. The knife lifted up to your head, beside your face. You couldn't possibly mean to fight? There was just no way you could. Why would you?

He looked like he was grieving too.

The light began to shine brightly—far brighter than any sun you may have ever put your eyes upon. In an instant you were aloft in the air, avoiding certain death. The toll that the jump took on your body came in the form of a wave of flame over any nerve endings you could have felt. The scream you let out was both one of anger and of pain. Your eyes burned with tears that you couldn't clear from your face. Everything ached horribly. Your body moved with a purpose that you could scarcely follow, let alone understand. His attacks brushed past you and you dodged them with seeming ease. He growled lowly.

"Anytime you reset," he spoke between his attacks, focusing his hand on your frame in the air, "anytime you come back, I'll be here. I won't let you go." The last part of his sentence crawled out of his throat. He was plagued with sadness, it was evident. You wanted to hold him and cuddle in that large, fluffy jacket against him and tell him sweet nothings until the world ended. The thought of being unable to reach that sweet grin—the red scarf, the blue jacket…caused you considerable pain. His hand closed in the air, and you crashed into the ground. You could feel the skin on the side of your head gash open, and weakly, your blood ventured away from your tired, crushed body. With his hand still closed he walked towards you. Every footstep slower than the last. You gasped for air that rejected your lungs. Coughing loudly was all you could muster. The knife glistened in the distance.

"I won't," you stretched your mouth open with great effort. "I won't come back…here." The words poured out painfully. The tears ran down your now bloodied cheeks. "I won't…hurt you. I won't…come back." Saying the words caused a jolt of electricity to surge through your body, from your feet to your new wound on your head. The cyan-jacketed figure knelt on one knee. You could feel the distrust through the floor on which he stood. His dragon heads focused raw energy at you, but did not fire.

"Or we could repeat it a hundred times. A thousand times. However many times you need to understand that I will always be stronger than you." His presence, cold and distant, neared your face. His hand grabbed your short hair from behind and he lifted you from the ground on which you previously lay. "I will always be here to keep you from goin—"

"I won't come back!" You struggle, but get your words out. "I won't hurt you again. I won't hurt you. I won't. I…" your eyes catch his long enough to see that he, through pain, is surprised by your outburst. "I…give up."

Any determination that you may have had fleetingly exits your mind and the world goes dark. He called you. Frisk. Frisk. Frisk.

And for the first time in his life, you were gone. And any trace you may have left, gone.

And the world reset.

Frisk wakes up.

The sun exerts itself into her room—a one bedroom apartment that she got since she left the orphanage a few years back. She lifts herself from the bed she was resting on and stretches her hands into the air, quietly groaning with the reanimation of her sleeping body. A tired hand rubs beneath her eye and she places her forehead into her palm. That dream, in particular, was exhausting. For the last few weeks, she would dream about that cyan jacket and the dragon heads, and the painful whispers. It left her feeling restless constantly. Frisk pulled the sheets from her legs and lifted her feet into two white, fluffy slippers. She quietly glanced at a picture she had of herself standing with a few other children at the orphanage where she was raised. Despite not carrying any memory of her life before she came to live there, she had been accepted lovingly and grew up with warmth and sincerity in her soul. Once you turned 18, they could trust you to live by yourself, and Frisk had turned 18 sooner than she had ever expected.

While she kept to herself for the most part, Frisk had grown into a lovely person to be around. Universally accepting of everyone, she had a small group of friends and worked during the days at a local diner as one of four waitresses. Not particularly girly, her hair grew only until she tired of it being horribly long and difficult to take care of, so it rested at a medium length against her shoulder. Her body had blossomed into that of an adult—soft skin, quiet grey eyes, and a small mouthed smile. She pulled a pair of faded jeans against her legs and pulled a loose fitting sweater over her arms—a nice, beige color. After pulling her hair back into a ponytail and eating something small for breakfast, Frisk threw some old sneakers on and stopped in front of a mirror conveniently placed next to the front door. A hand touched the side of her head wearily. Despite being awake now for an hour or two, she felt as if she could very well pull her hand back and find blood against it. It always stunned her to find that she was incredibly sensitive around that part of her head anyway, before the dreams even started. Her hand came back to her line of sight and came up empty. She was…'empty-handed'. Her own, pitiful attempt to cheer herself up caused her to stifle a small laugh. She smiled into her reflection and clenched her fist.

"It's okay," she murmured. "Everything is fine. Today's just another day at work." And whether she was only trying to convince herself or stating the truth, she grabbed her blue scarf, placed her hand on the door, and opened it into the world.

Frisk jumped outside—the temperature and scenery surprised her. It was surprisingly cold outside, and snow fell softly from the sky. She lived in a small complex beneath Mt. Ebott; a mountain where people were said to never return; and likely due to this fact was the reason that her rent was so cheap. She laughed softly. People never returning? Surely that was a lie created by someone scared of heights or something. The forest surrounding the mountain was like a second home to her. She wasn't on the 'Snow-White' level of befriending animals, but they feared her less than the normal human who roamed through. The ground was thick with a fresh layer of snow and she smiled to herself when she jumped into it with her sneakers, not minding the chill that it gave her. She had always loved the colder weather—snowfall in particular was lovely to watch (and play in, of course!). She pulled her cell-phone out of her pocket and checked the time—7:30am. She wasn't expected at work until 9am…maybe a walk in the forest was the break that her mind needed after a night of cyan colored nightmares.

The young lady walked into the forest below the mountain calmly, enjoying the snow weighing down branches on trees and the creatures who were racing to get back into their warm homes and, for all she knew, hibernate. These woods were so quiet—eerily so to some, but to Frisk it was only peaceful. She continued through the forest, breathing into her warm, blue scarf. Her eyes lifted up to the sky and she tilted her head a bit at finding the sun hiding behind a sad, grey cloud. "Oh, Mr. Sun," she laughed at how she talked to no one in particular. "You can't possibly mean to just hide there all day! You gotta come out at some point!" Truthfully, though she joked about it, her eyes were glad for the slight cast of shadow that the clouds put against the forest today.

"Someone! Anyone!"

Frisk jolted out of her skin. She was…alone. Right? She took a startled step in the direction of the voice. "Hello? Is someone there?"

"Help! Please, help!" A soft voice, maybe that of a child, cried out to her.

She began to walk toward the voice that was crying for aide, her heart racing. "Hey! Are you okay?! Where are you?" After waiting a few seconds, she was unrewarded. She wandered around quickly, worry replacing her initial scare. "Hello?"

Frisk turned beyond a tree and found herself touching the lowest branch for what could have been more emotional support than physical. Her eyes widened, curiosity engulfing her. This…was a hole. A giant, giant hole. She ventured closer to it, keeping her feet firm against the ground. It called to her silently, as if it were a memory. She clenched her hand to the front of her sweater, where her heart would be, and called out.

"Hello? Are you down there? Hold on!" She fell on her knees to try and crawl closer to the hole, wincing softly at the snow collecting over her now numbed fingertips. But…she couldn't stop now. Someone could need help. Someone could be hurting…

She was suddenly engulfed in a warm, red glow. Her heart beat madly in her chest, and the numbness that had encased her fingers abandoned its attempt at frostbite. Her eyes felt as if they were going to pop out of her head, and the side of her head tingled, not painfully. Frisk's chest felt like it was about to catch on fire. She stood up and looked down at herself, holding her hands out. A wind blew around her warmly, like a sweet summer breeze. She felt the sudden burst of strength and fortitude solidify around her fingertips into the shape of a heart. Her mind was racing a mile a minute, and every question she had couldn't be properly formed into words. She was scared, but strong. She was unsure, and yet she was completely sure. She was hesitant…but Frisk, for the first time since she could remember was full of determination.

"Welcome back, human." A snide voice echoed behind her, a resentful voice. She turned around quickly, bringing her hands over her heart to protect it, though she could barely register why. Two hands gripped her shoulders uncomfortably, causing her to cry out a little bit. She tried to lay her eyesight on whoever was doing this, but the figure was cloaked in a veil of black. As tall as her, with hands almost as large as hers. "Truly. Welcome. Back! Gyah hah hah heh heh heh!" The voice cackled as if something was funny. The hands deathgripping her shoulders suddenly eased their pressure, and she was given a firm and harsh push…

…right off the edge of the hole, and plummeting into it.

"Send my regards! I'll see you around! Gyah hah HAH HAH HAH!"

Her mind raced. Her hands tightened over her chest—over this new warmth that she had found. She was afraid, but she couldn't let it go. As she fell, the light from the surface grew more and more distant. Frisk feared the ground, wherever it may be. 'Surely,' she thought quickly, 'Surely this will be how I die.' Despite her own negativity, however, she found herself shaking her head. 'I just have to stay strong. I'll be okay.'

And just like that, the world became blanketed in darkness.


	2. Goat mom

Her head ached.

Weak hands gripped what felt like grass beneath her. Her body cried out against the movement she was making, but she lifted her torso with her arms and sat up for a moment. Darkness crept from every corner of this place. The only light came from a tiny dot against the ceiling, and when she looked to the ground, she was laying in a bed of yellow flowers. They cradled her gently, despite her sudden entrance. Fear overtook her. Her heart stuttered loudly in her chest and she gripped the fabric of her sweater against her heart to try and calm herself.

Did she just /fall into the hole of Mt. Ebott/? The one place she had never once feared? The silence of the area was almost deafening. She could hear her heartbeat, and every subtle shift of her clothing against the flowers. After a few moments of sitting on the ground, she began to lift her leg up to stand. "Tch…" she coughed a little bit and stretched herself out. Her sweater suffered the brunt of her fall, sporting a few rips and tears, as well as the dirt she had collected against the flower patch. Frisk gave one last glance upward and shook her head. There wasn't even anything noticeable to climb on to get out. She would have to move forward. Her heart raced loudly, and her head ached slightly. This felt like a dream she had once. Her eyes scanned the flowers, and she caught the gleam of her cell phone, which was promptly returned to her pocket. Just as she started to move her feet, she heard footsteps that were not her own. Frisk was thrown into a mild panic—was it the person who threw her down here? She had nothing to defend with. But…perhaps it was someone who could help her? She squinted into the darkness.

"Hello?" Frisk's voice rang against the cavernous walls. Even the flowers seemed to move when she spoke. The footsteps stopped, and then became quicker, and somewhat uneven, until a figure began to present itself. It was…a goat. Or was it a dinosaur? Frisk could hardly move. The figure stared at her blankly, seemingly in the same situation.

"Hello, my child," the figure spoke in such a sweet, motherly tone, that Frisk's heart was almost immediately settled. A smile graced this stranger's mouth. "Are you hurt? You must have fallen from quite a ways up."

"Oh, hello, I'm alright, but…thank you for asking." Frisk had no idea what to say to this other being in front of her. She was strange looking for sure, but her beauty was in her posture and her speech. The lady smiled sweetly at Frisk, causing the young girl to blush softly. "Where are we?"

"Oh, we're in the Underground, my child. How did you get here? Are you hungry, perhaps?"

Frisk couldn't deny that she felt as if the small toast and egg combo she had made for herself not terribly long ago had never existed in the first place, and neither could her stomach, which growled angrily. She held her stomach and nodded slightly. "A little. Who are you?"

The lady stopped and laughed, a chirp like little laugh. It filled Frisk with happiness. "My name is Toriel, my sweet girl. What is your name?"

"Frisk," the young lady said with a small smile.

"Well then, Frisk," Toriel extended her hand to the young lady with a smile. "Come. I have just baked a cinnamon-butterscotch pie and I couldn't eat it all by myself. You've come at a perfect time."

The world stopped for a moment.

" _Frisk_."

" _Dirty. Brother. Killer._ "

Her palms grew sweaty. The weight of the knife she carried in her dream held her hands down to her sides and she shook visibly. "Wh-what…" her eyes stung with hot tears. She was suddenly burdened with a guilt that only seemed to grow heavier and heavier. Toriel rushed closer, bending a little to see Frisk's face.

"My child, what ails you?" Despite the pretty wording, Toriel was obviously concerned. Frisk looked at her and then down at the floor.

"Wh-why am…I here? I shouldn't…" Her hands touched her heart sadly, the shaking lessening. "I…shouldn't be here. Why do I feel like…I shouldn't be here?" She spoke in a hushed whisper. Her dream flashing before her eyes. The cyan jacket reaching out. The hurt behind his blue flamed eye. The pain behind his voice. Her heart breaking.

Before she could question herself further, she was embraced in warmth. Toriel's hugs were like rays of warm sunlight. Frisk found herself buried into the folds of a loving, motherly embrace for the first time in…forever. "My child, you are where you were meant to be. Otherwise," she pulled away to wipe Frisk's tear stained face. "You would not be here at all. Do you believe me?"

No matter what Frisk thought, she couldn't help but agree. If it happened, it was meant to be. Her fingers softened on Toriel's robes and she nodded. Toriel placed her hand on Frisk's head. "I feel like you are here for a reason, sweet girl," Their eyes met. For a moment, the warmth around Frisk's chest grew. She couldn't possibly have known that their souls had touched briefly. "I will be here for you should you need anything at all."

Toriel's kindness was overwhelming in it's own beautiful way. Instead of extending a hand to the young Frisk, Toriel simply took the girl's hand herself and began to lead her deeper into the ruins. Frisk turned one last time. The patch of sunlight, the flowers, everything seemed so familiar, and yet…she was sure she'd never seen this before. Eventually, everything fell out of view, and she was forced to look forward. The sweet goat-mom led Frisk through a series of traps, enticing Frisk to figure them out, but getting worried when it took longer than five seconds. After she was led through spikes on the floor, Frisk found herself laughing softly. It would seem Toriel was a somewhat overprotective mother figure. It was precious. Frisk, motherless, found determination in the protective, sweet natured Toriel.

After some walking and some idle chat, they came upon a small cozy house near the end of the ruins. It surprised Frisk to see something so structured and calm looking in this maze of puzzles and old architecture, but she questioned it no further than she had questioned Toriel being where she was. They walked inside the home, and she was immediately hit with the amazing smell of the pie that she had heard Toriel talk about earlier. Cinnamon-butterscotch. Her stomach whined pitifully in anticipation, and Toriel laughed sweetly. They walked into the living room still holding hands, and Frisk stopped to admire the coziness of this room, lit by a fire in the fireplace. Toriel instructed her to sit at the table and wait while she was brought some pie, and let go of Frisk's hand.

The sweater-clad girl sat on the chair and leaned against the table. Her legs felt limp after sitting down…how long had they been walking? What time was it? Slowly, her head fell until it grazed the table, and she was asleep almost instantly.

She opened her eyes and it was dark. A piece of butterscotch pie was left in front of her and a blanket was tied sweetly around her shoulders. On the plate, Toriel had left a note in cursive handwriting. Frisk smiled tiredly at the handwriting alone. It was well-suited to the gentle Toriel.

 _'Frisk,_

 _Your room is the first door after you pass the stairwell. I look forward to spending more time with you tomorrow, and please leave your plate in the sink. Do not clean it, however. I will do that for you, my child._

 _Love,_

 _Toriel.'_

Frisk stood up, stretching her hands into the air to give her muscles some air. The nap she had against the table was surprisingly comfortable, and she was able to move about. It wouldn't do harm to find a bed to sleep in, though. She wandered out of the living room and into the foyer, looking over the locked staircase to the soft lamp that lit the bedroom Toriel had written about. It was a small room, rich in warmth and a multitude of orange hues. Children's toys lay in a basket, touched only by a very fine layer of dust. The room looked like it may have belonged to a child many years ago, but the twin sized bed sheets looked recently changed. Without questioning the room further, Frisk climbed under the sheets and slept in a matter of minutes.

Almost as quick as she had fallen asleep, she had woken up. Dreamless, for the first night in forever, she sat up and looked around. "Maybe I'm dreaming now," she murmured, pinching her own skin tightly. Nothing happened, so she clambered out of bed and took her sweater off to reveal her tanktop underneath. Thankfully, it suffered very little throughout the ordeals of yesterday, so she could comfortably wear it around the house. A gentle sounding knock disrupted her thoughts.

"Frisk? Are you awake? May I come in?"

"Of course, Miss Toriel, please." She was suddenly a little embarrassed of her lack of wardrobe. Toriel entered and looked at her, smiling knowingly.

"My child, I have brought you a gift! I hope you enjoy it." A small white box, with a ribbon wrapping it delicately sat in Toriel's hands. "And I insist you call me Toriel. The 'miss' is not necessary." Frisk smiled at Toriel, a glimmer of excitement in her eyes.

"For me? Thank you so much! Can I open it?" Toriel nods with a warm smile on her face, and Frisk opens it to find a new sweater, a dark purple with two long pink stripes horizontally cutting through her stomach.

"I thought of you, dear. The design came to me last night, and I've always been fairly quick around a needle." She smiled happily. "Do you like it? I wonder if it will fit you?" Toriel happily chattered around her, but Frisk stared at the sweater. It looked like a sweater she had lost a long time ago—but this color seemed different. Maybe the design was different, too.

She could have sworn the sweater she used to own was green. With only one yellow stripe…but it had been a long time. Perhaps she was simply mistaken.


	3. Underground bound

The next morning comes by quickly, and the next few to follow. Toriel would awaken Frisk at a reasonable hour and the two would lounge at the table, or go bug hunting at her favorite bug hunting spot, or eat pie together. Toriel truly was the mother that Frisk never had, or could never remember having. She was content to just be taken care of for a little while, but her heart yearned for something she could not explain. The cyan jacket? Toriel's warmth? An escape back to the human world? Frisk had no idea what she truly wanted, and while the thought of leaving Toriel plagued her beyond explanation, she knew that the world beyond that starircase, while 'dangerous, negative, and scary', was the only way she would be able to go home. Maybe the staircase was all that separated her and the cyan jacket.

"Tori," Frisk started slowly, while Toriel was braiding her hair. She had come up with that nickname on the spot and Toriel preferred it to the alternative…"Miss Toriel, ma'am". "Tori, if it's alright with you, I think I might need to head out soon." 'Be firm. Stay determined.'

Toriel stopped braiding and paused silently for a moment, then continued braiding. "My child, I was thinking today we could go bring some of the flowers from the ruins back and place them in a vase. Maybe afterward we can talk about renovating your room; I know that the room itself seems rather childish…"

"N-no, Tori, the room is completely alright. I just feel like I need to go." Before she even knew what she was saying, the words gushed out of her mouth. She turned around to face Toriel quickly, feeling guilty beneath her brown bangs. "Not that you haven't been wonderful to me, but…I need to get back to the surface."

"What do you have on the surface that I cannot give you here?" She asked calmly. Frisk felt herself grow nervous.

"I…" the little brunette started, unsure of what to say. Truly, the only thing that she needed was to find the person from her dreams. To find him and learn about him and ask questions and keep his broken heart from breaking further. But…she had only talked with Toriel about her dream once, and the time that she did she could feel the guilt of making her newly found goat-mom worry immensely.

"My child, I have something I must do. Excuse me." Toriel, wearing a look of worry and her own determination, left Frisk sitting in her chair.

 _The sky was black, and empty. It seemed more of a cave than a sky, truly. Snow fell around her in heaps, and she found herself wanting to play in it terribly. Her arms were thrown out toward a particularly large pile of snow, when a fluffy blue jacket hood popped out from the pile, a grin on his face._

 _'I'm snow happy you could make it, kiddo.' He pulled an arm up, which had a perfectly manicured snowball in it. 'I'll be sure and make sure you have a ball.'_

 _Right before he was able to throw it, another snowball hit him in the face. There was loud yelling in the background. "YES, THAT IS HOW THE GREAT AND MIGHTY PAPYRUS TAKES ON ALL HIS FOES THAT HE DOESN'T HAVE BECAUSE HE IS SO LOVED." He continues shouting. You feel the laughter creep into your very soul and release it, laughing pleasantly. The blue hooded figure wipes the snow from his face and his eyes shower you in warmth, and in a sweet, friendly love._

 _You cannot recall a time where you were happier._

The clock against the wall was a little fast, according to Toriel (who swore up and down she would fix it if it ever became a hindrance!), but it was easy enough to figure out that it was about 3am. You

Frisk's eyes opened slowly, the warmth from her dream blanketing her heart in happiness. He looked so happy. He was so…pale. Skeletal, even. "That's…not really possibly though, is it?" She pondered aloud, mind falling back on the initial though. He was _happy._ And she was absolutely sure that his happiness was what decorated her lips with a sweet smile.

The clock against the wall was a little fast, according to Toriel (who swore up and down she would fix it if it ever became a hindrance!), but it was easy enough to figure out that it was about 3am. Feeling a little parched, Frisk hopped out of bed to go get some water.

Toriel had made absolutely certain that at night if Frisk had needed anything, she would be well illuminated. Tiny, pink nightlights adorned the bottom of the wall all the way to the kitchen. Frisk smiled to herself at the thoughtfulness. However, a different color emanated from the stairwell.

" _Kiddo_."

Her eyes widened. That voice was from her dreams, without a shadow of a doubt. She stared in the direction it came from, not wanting to awaken Toriel should she be sleeping. "It's coming from…the stairwell?" Her voice was almost muted as she gawked at the stairwell…

…and the lack of a lock it had on it. Blue flame briefly jumped out of the lock itself. The light began to fade as it moved down the stairs. She jumped toward the stairs, grabbing the railing and spinning quickly. "Wait! Please, wait!" Loudly, she called out for the light to stop moving. It was a torturous, mad sprint from the bottom of the stairwell to the several corners where the light was just starting to fade. The hallway was old, the floor was brittle, and Frisk was barefoot. She knew that without a doubt, her feet would be blistered, but she could not possibly care less. The light was there. His voice followed it.

" _Frisk._ "

She was so close. Soon enough, a large door appeared, dusted and crusted over by the ancient hands of time. It seemed as if the door hadn't opened in a long time…and she ran into it full force, expecting it to open. After the initial, brief stumble, she backed away from the door, one hand on her nose and the other against the door. How did it open? She had to get out there. He…he could be there. Waiting on the other side. Why else would he call to her? She banged on the door almost desperately. He slept in her dreams, created her nightmares. She had to have answers, and this could be the closest she would ever be.

"My child, what are you doing here?" Toriel had appeared behind her, holding a candle to illuminate the darkness. Her eyes were a mixture of confusion and sympathy. "How did you unlock the lock? We should return to our home."

"Toriel, I have to…" Frisk turned around to see Toriel's eyes and she stiffened a little. "I have to go. Someone is calling me. They were just here."

"That's impossible, my child, the door never opened…" Toriel approached the door and looked at it sadly. Frisk genuinely threw her arms out while she explained.

"There was a blue light, Tori! A blue light, calling to me, and I…please, you have to let me go find it."

Toriel placed a clawed hand on the door and looked back at Frisk steely. "I have been meaning to destroy this door. You know what I have been telling you—the king of monsters will _take your soul_. Harvest it for a purpose of pure idiocy. I won't let you put yourself in danger like that, my child."

"T-toriel…" You begin, stepping towards her. She brings her hand out and her fingertips glow.

"You will have to fight me to leave. Prove to me that you can live beyond these walls and I will let you go freely." She had hardened considerably. Frisk stared her down and shook her head softly, holding out her hands as if negotiating.

"Tori, I can't—I won't hurt you. You've been so kind to me. Surely the monsters out there aren't as bad as you say. I just…can't stay here—" Frisk found herself cut off when Toriel threw magical, white balls of light at her. Without thinking, she was able to jump out of the way and avoid being hit by most of them, except one that went astray. The ball flew past her cheek and cut her slightly, a small droplet of blood rolling down her cheek. Toriel's emotions claimed her face. She begged the younger lady to rethink her decision. Life could be so sweet and wonderful. It didn't have to be this way, but Frisk knew it did.

"Tori, I don't want to fight you." The young, sweater clad woman stood firm. Her determination was stronger than ever. "I won't do it." Even Toriel couldn't believe that she stood so unwaveringly. She feared nothing, but her gentle heart would surely…surely.

"Perhaps…you are right, my child," her hand fell down. Frisk immediately ran to her and hugged her tightly, the smell of cardamom and lilacs filling her nose. "Perhaps there is a world out there that will love you…almost as much as I do. Maybe more." She smiled sadly. "But…if you leave, you must not come back. I cannot let you." Her eyes glaze over with sadness. "This…has happened to me before, you see. Children who fall through that hole and leave this ruin have been destined for their own demise." Her words stab Frisk in the heart.

"Toriel…thank you," Frisk starts, tears welling up in her eyes. "Thank you for taking care of me…thank you for worrying about me. Thank you." Toriel's hand came to her face and gently fanned her eyes. She, too, was crying. Suddenly, she reaches out and wrapped Frisk in a sweet embrace, holding her eighteen year old body close as if she were only a small child again.

"Come, let us get your belongings so you may have a safe journey." She extended her hand, and Frisk took it without a second thought. Together, they packed some food, grabbed her shoes, and Frisk dawned her purple striped sweater.

Toriel stood next to the opened door, smiling sadly and waving. "Goodbye, my sweet child. Stay safe." Her hands touched the young brunette's. "Stay happy, my sweet Frisk. No matter what."


End file.
